


Gravity (Something Always Brings Me Back To You)

by thelittlethings



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:10:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlethings/pseuds/thelittlethings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulbrothers, Swedes, and beautiful hockey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gravity (Something Always Brings Me Back To You)

It started when they were six, in Förskoleklass.

Even after they moved on to bigger and better things, their teacher thought of them fondly and marveled at how easily they took to one another. In all her years of experience, she’d never seen anything like it. They were drawn to each other, and if she had to put a word to their connection, she’d describe it as magnetism.

She was close, but she didn’t quite hit the mark. What they had – it was more than that. More than simple magnetism.

Miss Backstrom watched the way André’s eyes lit up when the quiet blond turned to him to ask him for his blue crayon. Nick was shy, his mother had explained. He was shy to the point that she’d needed to give him a gentle push several times to even get him to enter the room, let alone speak a word to her.

André was vibrant, bearing all the confidence she rarely saw in her preschoolers. He wore his smile with ease and innocence; it was infectious, and even though she thought he might be mischievous, she was charmed by the child. Children were like that. She was worried, though, when André held his crayon tighter and turned his full attention to Nick.

“What’s your name?” André asked, and Nick had just turned back to his own paper, picking the yellow crayon he already had back up. 

It was almost comical, watching André’s little eyebrows furrow and his shoulders set in determination. “My name’s André, and you should be my friend. You can’t be my friend if I don’t know your name.”

Now that, she hadn’t been expecting. The shy little Sorensen boy obviously didn’t either. He looked back up at André, all wide, wondrous eyes, and responded, almost as if compelled, “Nick.” His voice was soft, even quieter than she had been expecting.

André’s eyes were bright as he handed Nick the crayon. Miss Bystrom watched, waiting for him to badger the other, smaller child, but he’d gone right back to coloring his own page. She resolved to keep an eye on them and turned her attention to the rest of the class.

It wasn’t long before she put her worries to rest, because André latched on to Nick and followed him around like a lost puppy. As bright and social as André was, he wanted nothing more than to be around Nick, and would give up being the center of attention just to spend time with the other boy in silence.

She still remembered the first time Nick laughed. They were supposed to be taking a nap when she heard a soft giggle coming from the mats. When she walked by, the two boys were doing a terrible impression of actually being asleep, but she let them go. Smiling to herself, she listened to them laugh and whisper about getting away with it.

They became quite the pair, and with André always by his side, Nick opened up to the other kids too, but he never wanted to be anywhere but with Nick. Their mothers caught onto it too, eventually, and when it came time to sign them up for sports, it was Nick who told his mother that he wanted to do hockey, and André who had begged and pleaded and put his big brown eyes to work on his mother, who had taken one look at the little boy holding on to her son’s arm and smiled softly, giving in.

She could hear their little voices cheering and found Nick hugging André happily while the other boy beamed. After that, Nick and André became even more inseparable. They barreled in on dreary mornings happily chattering about what they’d learned at skate, and how they were going to be, “The best hockey players ever, Miss B.!”

Those two – they were always on their own wavelength. The minute one of them stepped in the classroom, they immediately looked for the other, and they wouldn’t rest until they were side by side. The day Nick’s mother kept him home from school was one of the worst days of the year, André sulked so badly. He’d crossed his little arms and refused to talk to any of the other kids for the whole day, and that made half of them frustrated too. By the time pickup rolled around, she was practically begging to leave.

It was as if nothing had happened the next day. André and Nick showed up at the same time, and André ran from his mother’s side to Nick, taking his hand and half running, half dragging Nick all the way to the door, babbling excitedly all the way. Miss B. had caught a tidbit of Nick telling André that he’d missed him and that he was never going to be sick _ever again_ because he missed hockey and the medicine his mommy made him take tasted like grape and he hated grape. André nodded along seriously, as they went past, waving on the way in.

And if their little hands were still grasping one another’s during quiet time that morning, well, that secret was safe with Miss B.  

\---

If it's possible, André and Nick grow closer after kindergarten. They go to school together, play hockey together, and learn together.

It's the learning that's the most important part. They learn to read each other like no one else can. When Nick's frustrated, it's like André just  _knows_. He can see the meltdown happening from across the ice, can even tell when Nick is holding his stick just a bit too tightly, not enough for anyone else to realize, even coach. Nick's mother likes to joke that André knows her son better than she does. 

She's probably right. 

Nick learns how to play on a line with André. He learns exactly where André's going to be when he sends a pass all the way across the ice, and he trusts that even when he's not looking before passing that André will find a way to be there. He always does.

Even though it seems to everyone else that André knows much more about Nick, he knows that's not true. He may seem like an open book, but he's not as easy to read as anyone might think. Nick's the only one who knows when André laughs just a little too long to be sincere. Nick knows how to dial André back from overextending himself. Where the blond is all quiet seriousness and stark attention, André's not. The brunet may know exactly when to push and leave Nick be, but he doesn't know himself. Not like Nick does. 

Nick knows that André loves the spotlight but is never really himself until the two of them are alone. He knows that André will push himself way too hard to live up to their coach's expectations, but would sacrifice his health and sanity to do so. He hates to disappoint people. 

Especially Nick. André hates to disappoint Nick more than anyone else in the world, except for maybe his mother. 

They're best friends, and that makes their hockey even better than it was before, and André didn't think it could  _get_ better. How could anything get better than it already was with Nick? 

André's thirteen when he realizes that he likes the way Nick smiles more than any girl. He sees the way that his teammates look at him when the pretty girl who sits next to him in class leans over and touches his arm, and he wonders what they see in her. He doesn't know her, and she doesn't know him. She doesn't know that he laughs way too hard at terrible jokes and tends to shoot top shelf glove side. She doesn't know what he's like when he's angry or how to calm him down when he is. Point is,  _she doesn't know him_. 

Not like Nick does. 

Nobody knows him like Nick does. 

André's fourteen when he realizes that he's gay. He realizes it when he catches his eyes lingering on Nick for moments too long, and it's then when he shuts it down. He can't have Nick. They're friends. They're best friends. He's not going to jeopardize losing the one person he's always cared about and had by his side to something as stupid as feelings. Feelings he shouldn't be having, because  _that's his best friend_. That's the one person he can't afford to lose. 

So he won't.

Their relationship is weird that year; they have a lot of firsts. For the first time since they met, André goes a day without contacting Nick. For the first time, André hesitates for a moment before slinging his arm over Nick's shoulder.

And for the first time, Nick reaches out first. 

They're fifteen when Nick calls André over with a mischievous gleam in his eye to show him the bottle he stole to share with him. They head over to the park that night, after practice, and sit there sharing their first drinks. They stop when they get tipsy, just lying there next to each other and staring up at the sky like they have all the time in the world. 

They don't, though. Not when they're slowly getting pulled in different directions, and for the first time since they've met, they're getting pulled away from each other. 

André doesn't think he'll be good enough, without Nick. He's always had Nick by his side, always. He's not sure he's ready for that to change. 

So he tells Nick so. 

He doesn't think he's ever seen Nick so upset as he pushes himself up on his elbows and staresAndré down through the darkness like he doesn't quite know what he's seeing. 

Nick is incensed when he speaks, his voice so low and serious that it's new even toAndré's ears. "What are you talking about?!" he chides, and his voice wavers. "You're good,André. You've always been good."

André sighs. "I'm good because you keep me in line. You've always pushed me to be better." 

And then Nick is angry, truly angry, with him. 

Another one of their firsts. 

"You've never needed me to be a good hockey player. Sometimes you needed someone to calm you down, or someone to push you and tell you to work harder, but you never needed me to make you the player you are. Don't you get that? We push each other, but that doesn't mean that you're going to fall apart without me or that you're here because of me, because that's the dumbest thing you've ever thought. We make each other better. But I can't make you good if you're not, and you can't tell me that you don't deserve this,  _because you do_. You're good enough. 

"You've  _always_ been good enough. And fuck you if you think you aren't, because even if you don't, I do. You're going to go play some beautiful hockey, and you're going to kick ass at it, just like you always have," Nick finishes, and he's breathing hard, and God, André hopes with all he has, because he can't stop himself now, not after Nick's said all that  _like he believes in him_. 

André puts his hands on Nick's shoulders and pulls him down so he can slot their mouths together, and he does it fast, because he can't take the time to think or he just won't do it, and this way, if Nick leaves - well, he had to anyway, and who is he kidding, right? Nick was always too good for him. 

But damn, he did not expect Nick to kiss  _back_ , and certainly not like he  _meant_ it, like he meant every single word he said, because André cannot believe that. 

Nick kisses him, hard, breathless, until he does. 

\---

Unfortunately, life doesn't get easier for Nick and André after the kiss. If anything, things get more complicated. 

Hell, neither of them have ever had eyes for anyone else; how are they supposed to know how to make things work, especially in their circumstances? How are two boys with no experience with love or meaningful relationships outside of hockey supposed to figure out that they know each other enough to love each other but possibly not enough to make a relationship work? 

They were fighting the inevitable, and they knew it. They approached their relationship in the same way they approached hockey; if something was wrong, they put all their effort into trying to fix it, and eventually, they learned how to make it work on its own. 

NIck and André may have known more about each other than anyone else in the world, but there were still things that they had to learn. 

They were fighting the inevitable truth; no matter how hard they worked, they weren't going to be able to work magic. One team wasn't going to magically be able to take both of them, and they might not even want to. They couldn't control their futures no matter how far they were going to be pulled apart. 

For once in their lives, their relationship was hurting them, not helping them. 

Nick didn't know how to put it into words that as much as he loved André, it wasn't fair to either of them to keep doing this. They were either desperately in love and fearless about the future or so terrified about their imminent separation that they fought more than they talked. It started to destroy them, but neither had the strength to break it off. 

Until Nick did, because he had to. 

André had spent their entire lives together trying to protect Nick. 

It was Nick's turn to protect André in the best way he knew how. 

Nick nearly forgot how to breathe when he asked André to come back to the playground and waved a bottle under his nose. He stayed a few inches away from André instead of plastering himself to his side. He had to learn. They were leaving. Hell, they were gone in less than a week. There was nothing in the world he wanted to do less, but he owed André this, owed himself this. 

They'd grown up together and they shared everything, down to the same dream. 

And the only way they were going to get there was without each other, and Nick hoped against hope that André would understand what he was doing. Just like he always did. 

He didn't. 

André didn't understand. André's fists clenched and his face went splotchy and Nick couldn't stop it, couldn't stop the pulsating ache in his chest as he watched André fall apart, because no, André understood, but he didn't  _understand_ , couldn't comprehend that Nick was doing this so that he could throw all that he had into hockey instead of missing NIck, instead of pining for a person that he couldn't have, not for a long time. They weren't going to be able to see each other more than a few times a year, if that, and that's granting that their schedules were complacent and they could make it work. 

They were young, and they were reckless, empowered by the idea that love could conquer all, and it could, but not - not now. 

They needed time. 

André knew the numbers as well as NIck, knew that they were running on stolen time, time they didn't have anymore, and he knew that it Nick wouldn't do anything if it weren't for the best, but  _fuck_ , that didn't make it hurt any less. It didn't make André breathe any easier. It didn't stop the tears. It didn't stop him from feeling like he'd just been stabbed in the chest. 

André - he'd never known a time when he thought Nick could hurt him. 

There's a first time for everything. 

André didn't know how to say it. Didn't know how he could say that his first memory there would be tinged with this new, terrible one, that he wasn't sure that he knew how to do this either. In the end, it all cycled back to what had started this; he didn't know what he could and couldn't do without Nick. 

He understood what Nick was saying. Nick had never  _not_ made sense, but this was one time when -

When he wanted Nick to be wrong. 

There was nothing André could do but sink into Nick's arms, and Nick bit down on his lip until it was bloody and held him until the tears stopped and their throats so raw and scratchy that they could barely choke out their own goodbyes. 

André wanted to tell Nick that he understood, that it didn't make him love him any less, that they would always be best friends, no matter what happened.

Nick wanted to tell André that he'd screwed up, that he takes it back, that they can make it work, but he loves André far too much to cause him that kind of pain. 

At that point, there's nothing left to say, only things that they hope the other just  _knows_. 

They promise each other one thing: that they'll always be each other's best friend. That's easy enough to keep. There's such a void in both their hearts that they haven't even touched the alcohol because they know that forgetting will only make this harder when they remember it in the morning. 

They don't touch each other again, because they're afraid they won't let go. 

Neither of their mothers comment on their puffy, swollen eyes, when they go home. 

Nick's mother comes into his room and pulls him into her arms, hugging him so tightly that the tears start anew. 

He sobs in his mother's arms for the first time in a long time, that night, and he doesn't know how to make himself stop. 

When they leave for their new teams, they promise themselves different things. 

Nick promises himself that he'll never let André cry like that ever again. 

André promises himself that he'll work his ass off until he and Nick can play together again. 

They trust that hockey will bring them together again even if their feelings can't. 

And, well, they've always played beautiful hockey together. 

\---

Nick can't sleep.

He's holed up in a hotel room, pacing. At... eleven thirty at night. He needs to  _sleep_ , and he needs to sleep  _now_.  _  
_

Flopping on the bed, he stares at the ceiling, arms crossed over his stomach.

He's going to see André tomorrow. 

André, who he didn't even get to talk to at the Draft, who he didn't even get to hug and congratulate. He should have been the first one to hug André. He should have just done it anyway, but he wasn't sure, and that killed him, because he's  _always_ sure about André. 

At least, he was. 

Now, he doesn't know what's going to happen. He doesn't know if André wants to see him. He doesn't know if he wants to see André, except that he does, he does more than anything, but seeing André reminds him of what he did to him last time and he doesn't want André to think about that, doesn't want to watch the memory of  _what he did_ hurt him, even if it was for the best, even if it did help get them here, because Nick needs to believe that it had some impact. 

He needs to believe that he's right, because even if André doesn't want to look at him, even if he doesn't want to share the same ice with him anymore, after these years---

He needs to know that André's happy. 

Nick breathes out slowly, closing his eyes. 

He needs to sleep if he wants to make André proud.

\--- 

Nick's on the ice first. He comes early, laces up his skates, and heads out onto the ice before André gets there. He wants to see him so badly, but he doesn't want their first encounter to be in a sweaty locker room with a bunch of other teammates. 

He just needs to breathe. His hands are shaking. He needs to relax, and the only thing that can make him do that right now is to get on the ice. 

He's in his own little world, for a while. He doesn't see André skate on or move over to the benches.  **  
**

Nick doesn't even stop his circuit until he's nudged into the boards by one of his new teammates.

"Your boy's on the ice," he gestures, pointing to the bench. 

And fuck, that's André, older and taller and more built and sitting down to adjust his skates, and Nick just nods, willing his feet to move. 

He skates the rest of his circuit around and he can barely look up from his feet, which he's not supposed to do. 

Keep your head up. The first rule of hockey. 

André always did make him break the rules. 

Nick comes to a stop right in front of the bench, and André stands, ready to get back on the ice and practice hard enough to force him to breathe. 

Nick looks up. 

André's eyes come to rest on him, and he's not a teenage girl, he's not, but it takes his breath away. 

Nick doesn't dare to try to breathe, meeting André's eyes, and goes to say that he's sorry, that he made a mistake. 

André speaks first. 

"Fuck you," he whispers, and it's a punch to the gut, it really is, but then André's pulling him to him, pressing his face into André's chest, and this is  _them_ , this is how it's  _supposed to be_ , him and André and no one else and damn it, André's holding him like nothing's changed, and he's holding him so tight, and Nick melts into it, his entire body releasing from more tension than he knew he was holding and he just breathes, holding tighter, because this is  _his André_ _._

Nick feels the tears coming and he does nothing to stop them, because this has been a long time coming, feelings he wouldn't let himself have because he did this to himself, he told André that they needed space, that they needed time to grow into better players and people and better for each other, somehow, and he hopes that they have, because he can't deny himself this anymore. Even more than that, he can't deny André this, not if André still wants this, wants  _him._

He feels it when André presses a kiss to his helmet, and he holds tighter, white knuckling André's jersey with clenched fists. Nick's shaking so hard that he doesn't know that André's shaking too. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he murmurs into André's chest. He thinks that there's no way André can hear him, but André does, because André always has. 

He's always heard him. Even the things he doesn't say. 

Nick's known exactly what he's wanted to say since the day he broke it off, but he hadn't been able to say it that night because he couldn't do that to André. He couldn't hurt him like that.

Between the two of them, Nick was always the one who said exactly what he felt, and yes, he's sorry, but there's more to it. He doesn't know how to say it, so he just keeps saying he's sorry. 

André may have changed, but he still knows Nick. 

Before he presses another kiss to his helmet, he whispers to Nick in Swedish, quiet enough that the cameras won't pick it up. 

"I love you too." 

\---

André knows that he can't take back the words, once he says them. Which is exactly why he did. 

He needs Nick to know that he doesn't want to take them back, that he forgives him. That is, if there were anything to forgive. André knows, has always known, that Nick wouldn't hurt him without believing 100% that he was donig the right thing by him. Not them, but him. He was angry for a long time, upset and frustrated that the boy he had always loved thought they couldn't stay together and still have hockey the way they wanted to. André can't lie - it took him time to come to terms with it, because for the first time since he met Nick, he felt like he didn't understand him, and that scared the living hell out of him. 

André didn't understand until long after, when he had been playing without Nick for a while, meshing with a new team, making new friends. He understood that Nick was right. 

They had a lot of growing up to do, and damn it, André was going to make Nick proud. He was going to work his ass off to show him that when they saw each other again, they could have it all. They could be the players they always wanted to be and still have each other. They could find a way. 

André practiced, and when he felt like he wasn't doing enough, he practiced harder. When it came to the Draft, he didn't stop holding his breath until Nick's name was called too, and he smiled at him, even though he knew that Nick couldn't see him. 

He wanted to go up to him then, to congratulate him and tell him that if they made it that far, they could do anything. But it didn't feel right, not at the time. He didn't want to go up to Nick on a day that was supposed to be the best day of his life and ruin it, because what if Nick didn't want him anymore? André knew that they had to grow up, had to change, be better, but what if the Nick that he saw on stage wasn't a Nick who wanted him? 

It hurt to think about, so he pushed it down. 

When he found out about Worlds, he was terrified and excited all at once, because he'd be seeing Nick again. 

He was just getting back on the ice when he looked up and saw Nick, and - 

He couldn't even think. It took him a moment to register the face, the way the build had filled out and the face had changed but was still somewhat the same, but it was the eyes that did him in, because  _fuck_ , he couldn't have stopped himself from holding Nick and forcing him to stay now if he tried. 

Nick, Nick goes to talk, but André didn't let him, because he had something to say first. What came out was, "Fuck you," and André hoped that Nick would understand what that meant. 

It was "fuck you" for a lot of things. Fuck Nick for being here, looking like he did. Fuck him for looking at André with hope and apology in his eyes, looking at him like he loved him. Fuck Nick for being the first person André did a lot of things with. Fuck Nick for being his first kiss, his first boyfriend, his first best friend. Fuck him for being the first person who meant  _everything_ , and fuck him for protecting him when he didn't want to be protected, fuck him for telling him goodbye, fuck him for being right. 

Fuck him for making him need him since the day they met. 

Fuck him for making him love him. 

André knew he couldn't fight it, so he didn't. He just pulled Nick into him, held him tight and as hard as he could because maybe if he could just hold him tight enough, this time, that - 

That he would stay.

That he would want to keep him enough to stay. 

André's trembling, trembling like a nervous child on the first day of kindergarten, waiting for something that he doesn't think will come but prays that it will. 

André's heart almost stops when he realizes that Nick's holding him back, and it makes him forget how to breathe, so consumed in Nick, in his best friend, the one person he waited years for and would wait for forever if he asked. 

He shakes even harder at that, dipping down to press a kiss to Nick's helmet, letting himself have that little thing, if he gets nothing else. 

When Nick speaks, the words break André's heart. 

"I'm sorry," he hears, repeated, over and over, so softly that he's probably not supposed to hear it, and he knows what Nick's apologizing for, because Nick's still the same, and André's never  _not_ known Nick, so he knows what this means, and he cries. André cries and kisses NIck's helmet again, holding him as close as he can and yet still not close enough to feel like it's  _enough_. 

André chokes on a sob and presses his forehead to Nick's helmet, breathing out the words shakily, because André  _understands_ , understands what Nick was trying to tell him. 

All those years ago, on that playset, unopened bottle of vodka between them, Nick was trying to tell André that he loved him. 

"I love you too." 

He's never seen Nick cry - not even the night they said goodbye - because Nick was always careful not to cry in front of him. The night they split, André saw Nick's puffy red eyes and listened to the tremor in his voice, but he never saw him cry. 

He does then, and if his heart was broken before, it's irreparable now. 

Nick looks up at him then, and when he looks him in the eyes, André can't believe the words he hears. 

"I love you." 

It's backwards and it's broken and it's beautiful and it's everything that André always hoped to hear but never thought he would. 

André presses their foreheads together and he can't believe it. This type of thing can't happen to him. He can't have it all. Most people don't even get half of what they want, let alone what they've always dreamed of, and he's been drafted by the NHL, he can't possibly get to have Nick too. 

André closes his eyes and counts to three.

One. 

Two. 

 _Three_. 

When he opens them, Nick's still there, and he thinks, fuck the cameras. Let them see. 

\---

Needless to say, the footage of the kiss gets cut from the interview.

\---

Miss B. watches hockey, if only for those two little boys who lit up her world that year.

When she sees the interview, she can't stop smiling, because the entire thing is about their reunion, about them coming together after lost time and she can see what's so special about what those two boys share, and it makes her feel like anything is possible. 

She laughs at the television when the narrator of the documentary of training camp says, "It's like they were made for each other!" 

Miss B. knows a soulbond when she sees one, and she would have to agree. 

Back when she taught them - she was wrong. 

She called it magnetism. 

The word for it was gravity.

Because when you let go of something, send it to higher heights and watch it soar - gravity always brings it back to you. 


End file.
